Anomaly
by Archaeosine
Summary: Some thoughtcriminals can't be cured with rehabilitation. Told from the POV of a fictitious Outer Party member named David Kensington.


"Number 3522! Get up!"

The harsh voice emanating from the telescreen in the cell jolts me from my thoughts as I rest on the prison bench. The barred doors open, and the tiny cell becomes filled well beyond its intended capacity as four guards enter to take me away. The guards pinion my hands behind my back and lead me down the hall. I'm glad to be leaving. The omnipresent, antiseptic brightness of the Ministry of Love drives you crazy after a while. Everything is white: the walls, the lights, the floor…you don't think much of it at first, but as time goes on it gets to you. You start longing to see something else, anything else, as long as it has some color to it. And the monotonous electric drone of the fluorescent lights makes you want to become deaf. I never realized how much I cherished silence until I heard that buzzing noise grating my ears every day of the week. Anyway, by now, I'm looking forward to my next destination. I suppose I should explain how exactly I got to be in this situation…

* * *

I was never told precisely why I had been imprisoned, but I suspect it was simply because of a few conversations I had. The Ministry of Plenty has many commissars responsible for food allotment, and I used to be one of them. My task was to gradually reduce food rations for the citizens of Oceania. One of my coworkers was a man named Gantley. We sometimes discussed how odd it was for the Ministry of Truth to claim that Oceania "was always at war with Eurasia" when both of us distinctly remembered Eastasia being the enemy up until a few months ago. Gantley ended up vanishing, and about a week or so after his mysterious disappearance, I was arrested and sent to the Ministry of Love. 

I'll never know what they did to Gantley, but I can certainly tell you what happened to me. It's not pleasant; I was tortured for months. They didn't want information from me, however. They told me that I didn't love Big Brother, which was apparently an antisocial sentiment to have, and I needed to be punished so I could see the evil of my ways. Truth be told, I had never much cared for Big Brother. I acted like I adored him to avoid arousing suspicion, but in reality I thought it was bizarre the way everyone mindlessly worshipped him. I had never even seen proof that the man existed; how could I admire him? And how would constant beatings change my feelings? The pain was agonizing, but I refused to repent for my "crimes."

The official who was in charge of my torture was a man by the name of MacLeod. He said I was a very tough case because of my "pathological hatred of Big Brother and his glorious benevolence." One day, he brought me to a room with the number 101, claiming that he would finally cure me of my deviant beliefs. Somehow he had found out that I was afraid of knives, because he acted as if he was about to slit my throat with a razor. MacLeod told me that I would be spared if I realized that, deep down inside, I loved the Party. He was trying to break my spirit once and for all, but his plan wasn't really working on me. I couldn't help but feel that I didn't want to be reprieved if it meant I had to live the rest of my life as a broken shell of myself. Besides, it would be a sort of personal victory if I died with **my** thoughts instead of theirs. While the sight of the gleaming razor terrified me, I was prepared to embrace death. MacLeod placed the blade against my skin and I clenched my eyes tight, but much to my surprise, nothing happened. MacLeod seemed even more perplexed than me once he realized that I was prepared to have my life ended. Apparently, I was the only prisoner who didn't "realize his true devotion to Big Brother" after a stay in Room 101. A stunned MacLeod told the guards to bring me back to my cell.

A few hours later, I was taken to a panel of three MiniLuv officials. They were all high-ranking members of the Inner Party. I had never even seen them before.

"We never allow citizens of Oceania to die with hatred in their hearts," said the first official. "You, however, have a deep-seated loathing of the good values the Party stands for. We tried to help you understand the true kindness of Big Brother, but you simply refused to see the light. You seemed to be quite the anomaly…until we discovered the true source of your dangerous thoughts."

"You thought you could keep it from us, didn't you?" piped up the second official. "You should have realized that no one ever deceives the Party."

"What are you talking about?" I asked. I certainly wasn't aware of harboring any secrets.

"We have documents proving your true origin," said the third official in a smug tone. "Apparently, you are a Eurasian citizen who illegally entered Airstrip One. Once you arrived here, you forged your identification papers and got a job at the Ministry of Plenty."

"You filthy bastards!" I yelled. "That's a lie and each one of you knows it! I've lived in Airstrip One my whole life!"

The second official shook his finger at me. "Now now, there's no need for temper, Mr. Kensington…of course, that isn't even your real name. The Ministry of Truth has just given us information that verifies your true identity, and the Ministry of Truth never lies. You are Karl Pöhlman, a Eurasian agent from the city of Hamburg."

The first official spoke again. "Like I said, we cannot execute an Oceanic citizen until he remembers his true love for Big Brother. You, however, are not a citizen of Oceania. You are a Eurasian spy. And for the crime of espionage, you are hereby condemned to death by hanging. The sentence is to be carried out tomorrow afternoon at Victory Square."

There was no way I had grown up in Hamburg and become a Eurasian spy without realizing it; that story was a complete fabrication made up about me so I could be executed without proper rehabilitation. I was too dumbfounded to say anything as the guards returned me to my cell. Once the initial shock wore off, however, I remembered the reason why I wasn't too upset about the notion of dying back when I was in Room 101. I most certainly did not love Big Brother, and I didn't want to live in his sick, twisted society. I can only assume that's why the Ministry of Truth made up that story about me being a spy; the Party felt that a "dangerous deviant" like me was incurable, and consequentially had to be eliminated. The Ministry of Love was unable to break me down; in a way, I had won. Of course, execution wasn't quite what I had expected to win as a prize. I eventually fell asleep, and by the time I woke up, I was pretty much ready for my fate.

* * *

Well, that was a rather lengthy explanation. Back to where I started…the guards take me out of my cell for the last time. They lead me into a van in the Ministry's garage, and I am transported to Victory Square. When the van arrives at its destination, the doors open, giving me my first view of the outside world in months. I feel overwhelmed by the sight. Everything has color! Words cannot describe the feeling of seeing the bright blue sky again. My euphoria is rudely interrupted when the guards order me to move. 

A massive crowd has assembled to see my death. Loudspeakers are blasting drivel about how "war is peace, freedom is slavery, and ignorance is strength." A guard jabs a baton into my back and orders me to climb the gallows. I ascend the gallows steps and when I reach the top, the entire crowd quiets down and focuses their eyes upon me. A thickly knotted noose dangles from the crossbeam, gently swaying in the breeze. The breeze…how I missed it while I was imprisoned. The hangman, who is waiting for me at the top of the gallows, addresses the audience.

"Comrades, the man you see here is an enemy to every single one of us. He is a spy from Eurasia, a vile country that we have always been at war with. Under orders from Emmanuel Goldstein, he has sabotaged Oceania's food supply. He stopped a shipment of food from reaching our soldiers fighting in the Congo; the city of Brazzaville nearly fell to the Eurasian Army because our troops did not have proper nourishment! This man is an enemy of Ingsoc! Do you agree that he must die?"

The crowd cheers wildly.

"Don't you people see what's happening?" I shout. "The Ministry of Truth made all of that up! They make everything up! Don't you remember how they used to say that we were always at war with Eastasia? You're being lied to! Think, people! Think!"

The hangman yells out to the crowd. "Comrades, this man is clearly delusional. Everybody knows that the Ministry of Truth always tells the truth. Big Brother would never allow us to be lied to. The spy is the one who speaks lies! Now he will die!"

The crowd cheers again. I can hear shouts of "Kill the spy!" and "Down with Eurasia!"

The guards order me to stand on the trapdoor of the gallows. The hangman blindfolds me and I can feel the noose being placed around my neck. I'm not even nervous anymore. I don't want to live a moment longer in this society of fools. The trapdoor springs and I plunge through the opening. I feel my neck break and everything begins to rapidly fade away. One last though flashes through my mind…

_I may be blindfolded, but I can see more truth than everyone in this crowd combined._

-The End-


End file.
